The Fine Line
by holmesloafer
Summary: It takes a whole lot of courage to venture into unknown territory. I am brave. But am I also not idiotic?


**This story is the product of my Divergent feelings. (Not feels.) Bear with me while I wait for Divergent Book #3 (Damn, why is it still untitled, Ms. Roth?) and the Divergent film (which will be showing more than a year from now, yes, dammit.)**

**This story also isn't between or after either of the books. It's sort of AU, since I guess this is what would've happened after Divergent if the mind control by Eric and Jeanine didn't happen. It primarily focuses on Tris and Tobias' relationship, and not on the war whatever.**

**Okay? Okay? Enjoy. :)**

* * *

Funny, isn't it? No matter how much time you spend making your life worth living, you'll always be powerless against a bullet.

Or the temptation of a fifty-foot chasm, for that matter.

A rush of adrenaline courses through my veins as the wind threatens to push me over the ledge, which is the only thing that stands between me and a plunge to my death. But surprisingly, I am not afraid.

_Maybe I do belong in Dauntless, after all, _I think.

Something in me clicks, and I am overwhelmed with fearlessness.

Fearlessness is dangerous. Dangerous is good.

I climb on the ledge, my feet barely having enough space. Stretching my arms wide, I close my eyes and lose myself to the roar of the ravaging water. At the back of my mind, I hear Tobias's words as he introduced the Pit to us on our first day. _"The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!" _

An incredibly fine line indeed.

I laugh, albeit hysterically, at the memory of him. I hear his voice, bouncing back between the walls of my mind, and the argument from an hour ago returns to my thoughts with a painful thud.

* * *

"Dammit, Tris, can we just forget about it for now?"

Heat floods my cheeks as the rage consumes me. "How can you even say that? You were holding her fucking hand! And you just want me to forget about it?" I yell at him,

frustrated.

He just leans against the door to my apartment and pinches the bridge of his nose, putting on a mask of calm, although I can tell how angry he really is by the way his other hand starts to crush a can of beer, turning his knuckles white.

"I was drunk, okay? I didn't know what I was doing." he sighs. "Please, I'm tired, can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"What's wrong with right now? Are you in a hurry to go back to your bedroom to go fuck someone behind my back?" I say, gritting my teeth. It would be a lie to say I'm entirely sober, but neither is he, anyway. Alcohol does wonders to your shamelessness.

Suddenly he walks up to me and pins me against the wall, his hands on either side of my head, the can of beer (or rather, the sheet of aluminum resembling a can of beer) on the floor. "If I were ever going to cheat on you," he starts, his eyes betraying his supposed composure, "I'd make sure you were the first one to find out. What's the point of doing something to hurt you if you're not going to be hurt?" he grins mirthlessly.

I slap him, but he doesn't flinch. No surprise there. I push him away, something I wouldn't have been able to do if he wasn't caught off-guard. "Maybe this was just a huge fucking mistake."

"A mistake?" he asks, incredulous. "You think _this_," he gestures between us, "was just a fucking_ mistake_?" he says, spitting out the last word as if it was something repulsive.

"If we're just going to end up fighting every damn night we aren't sober? Then yes!" I exclaim, as I dig in my purse for my keys.

"That's the whole point! We're drunk, and our thoughts aren't in the right place." he says, running his hands exasperatedly through his hair.

"They seem to be in the right place to me if we can register the fact that they're not supposed to be." I point out, muttering curses under my breath as I look for the _stupid fucking shitass keys._

"Tris, just," he says, grabbing my wrist to turn me around to look at him, "let's talk tomorrow, okay?"

I pull my wrist from his grasp and push the key in the designated hole, hear a click, give a perfectly profound "Damn you!" to his face, and slam the door.

A half hour later, I find myself succumbing to my inner Dauntless. (Which isn't a very wise part of me, mind you.)

* * *

What's so bad about dying? What's so bad about giving in to despair (or hope, perhaps, since isn't there always hope in entering the unknown?) and putting an end to your miserable life? It may be considered selfish by some, sure, but there's a reason why I transferred from Abnegation.

What's so bad about actually doing something for your damn benefit instead of others, for just fucking once?

It takes a whole lot of courage to venture into unknown territory.

I am brave.

My left foot slides forward, until only its heel touches the railing. I inhale, thinking it could be my last.

"Tris."

I smile. I can't say why his presence doesn't surprise me.

"Come to save me from myself, Four?" I ask, my stance unwavering.

"Stop it." he says, his voice low and emotionless.

I drop my arms and carefully turn around. A part of me wants to see his expression while I fall to my death. The other part of me wonders whether he'll do something to help me.

He stands a few yards away from me, his arms crossed, his hair tousled. His expression's blank and unfeeling, as always.

I'm disappointed.

It's obviously not because I want to see him concerned. God knows how much I have never wanted him to coddle with me. But I'm about to do the bravest thing possible, and there's not even an inkling of pride in his eyes.

_Dammit._

It angers me, and if he were only a few feet closer, I would punch the indifference out of his face.

"Well? Aren't you going to persuade me to come down?" I ask mockingly. "Aren't you going to beg on your knees, apologize for everything you said, and confess your undying love for me?"

He walks slowly over to me, and I almost think he's going to drag me down himself. But instead he stares at me, piercingly. I do not back down from his gaze.

"You're not the girl I fell in love with." he says quietly. "You're an adrenaline junkie who acts brashly, without ever thinking it through, desiring glory for your supposed bravery." His face is inches from mine, but suddenly he backs away a few feet and points to the chasm with an outstretched arm, the muscles taut with tension. "This? This isn't courage. Courage is acting in the midst of fear. Courage is standing up for others even though you know fully well that the chances are against you. This," he says, gesturing wildly to me and the chasm, "is _pathetic_."

With that he walks away without looking back.

I exhale a breath I wasn't aware of holding. I crouch down and sit on the railing, with my knees dangling. I look over my shoulder, eyeing the river below for a few seemingly lengthy minutes. And suddenly I don't feel so brave anymore.

I jump down the ledge and find myself walking to his apartment. I don't think I can face this night alone.

The door's partially open, and I see him seated on the floor at the foot of his bed, gulping down a whole bottle of beer without stopping. Once emptied, he throws it at the opposite wall, causing it to break into shards. He uncaps another bottle, before I open the door fully.

He steals a glance at me, before proceeding with his next bottle.

I sit down at his bed. "Tobias." I whisper.

"I'm not in the mood for a conversation right now, Tris." he snaps.

My anger flares up and I walk to him, grabbing his uncapped bottle and pouring it over him. He stands, finally provoked, and grabs my wrists.

Three inches. Three inches stand between our faces as we stare at each other, neither one flinching.

He closes the distance with his lips.

The kiss is rough, and overflowing with emotion. Hurt, distrust, betrayal, passion, want. They all strive for domination, the same way Tobias and I do.

We catch our breath, and he rests his forehead on my neck.

I am certain he can feel how fast my heart is racing.

"Tobias." I whisper, breathless.

"Tris." he mocks, although the huskiness in his voice gives him away.

He pulls away and lies down beside me. I wonder if I did something wrong, but I can tell by the way he's breathing that he's trying to control himself.

He's staring at me, and I stare right back.

"Tobias." I repeat, breaking the silence.

"You're gonna have to say more than that, if you want to make a point."

His tone surprises me, because he's never used it on me before. It's not cold nor emotionless, but it isn't teasing nor kind either. He sounds strained. In pain, even.

But I find myself smiling.

_Finally_, I think. _So he has emotions after all._

He furrows his eyebrows, perplexed, probably. I don't blame him. I must be acting like a lunatic; one minute, I'm about to jump off a cliff, next minute I'm pouring beer over his head. Hail, Tris, the psychopath.

I run my hands through his hair, still soaked in liquor. He smells like beer and pine trees. Not an awful combination, I have to admit. He pulls me closer to him, one hand resting on my hip. He buries his face in my hair.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" he says, his voice muffled by my hair. "Was it some kind of revenge for what I said earlier?"

He utters no apology, nor do I. We're both too proud for our own good.

"Not everything I do is because of you, you know." I mutter, exasperatedly. It's true. But the fact is, jumping into the chasm doesn't fall into that category that doesn't concern him. He doesn't need me to say it though.

He knows.

"It's idiotic. It's stupid. It's selfish. It's—"

"I get the point." I say, cutting him off and pushing him away so I can see his face. "Do you think I'm that dumb, that I'd just throw myself at any activity I deem brave? I'm not, okay?"

"It's not you." he murmurs, stroking a lock of my hair between his fingers.

I swat his hand away. "What do you mean, it's not me? Don't you get it? I'm still Tris!"

"You're not Tris. You're Pathetic Tris." he says, his voice dangerously low.

"Don't." I say through clenched teeth.

"I just don't want you to throw your fucking life away! I don't want to worry my ass off every single second, thinking _Oh, I wonder what Tris is doing right now. Maybe she's off jumping from unidentified cliffs or trying to balance herself on a fucking pole, which by the way would automatically release missiles the moment she makes a wrong step." _Don't _you _get it? I transferred from Abnegation because I wanted to be independent, because I didn't want to have to _care _about other people." he says, his voice hoarse with emotion, then he looks straight at me. "But then I met you."

"You don't have to care about me." I whisper.

"You're right." he says, his face expressionless again and his tone flat. "I don't _have _to. But I do. There's nothing I can do about it, Tris. There's nothing you can do either."

"But I'm not doing it to hurt you!"

"It doesn't matter. You still do." he sighs, and puts his head in his hands. "Maybe this was a mistake." he mumbles.

I hate it.

I hate how he looks so vulnerable, so defeated, so _weak._

I stand up, slam the door, and run to my apartment.

He doesn't follow me.

* * *

**Review and tell me what you think about it! :) Mwah!**


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